Carnival of Catastrophe
by sickoftakenpennames
Summary: The guys get a shocking wake-up call when attacked on a rainy night. What horrors will await them? No major couples, just good, bloodcurdling fun. Rated T for terror and gore.
1. The Circus Has Come to Town!

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

**This takes place somewhere between the Final Ten and the last episode.**

**Oh, and Duncan may have a few physical characteristics altered.**

**Key**

**_Confession Cam_**

_Thought_

**Chris' narration**

**All Confession Cams recorded were done so after the following event unless otherwise stated or referenced.**

* * *

Trent turned in his bed as the rain slammed onto the cabin roof.

"Man..."

The storm outside didn't let up.

... _plop_...

"Oh, great." Trent wiped the raindrop off of his cheek and sat up in bed.

He heard a shuffling in another bunk before a kerosene lamp lit up, dimly illuminating the cabin with a soft orange glow.

"Yo, man, what's the problem?" DJ slurred from his bed, rubbing his eyes.

"Rain."

"It's just water."

"Yeah, I know, but... dude, just get me a bucket."

"What?"

"A bucket."

DJ reluctantly got up from the bed and retrieved a medium-sized pail from the bathroom the campers used in case any of Chef Hatchet's cooking came up last minute.

Trent heard the clunking of the metal on the floor and picked up the pail before placing it where the raindrop landed on the bed and moving to another bunk (He had many to choose from since the other Bass were voted off).

"Just go to sleep, a'ight?"

"Yeah, fine."

DJ collapsed into his bunk as Trent yanked the covers from between the mattress and bedspread before attempting to place himself in the bed.

Trent's exhuastion prevented him from noticing a shadow prance along the wall.

As he lowered himself into the bunk, the ambiguity could be seen raising it arms over his head, ready to pounce.

"..._ZZzzZzzZ._.."

Trent opened his eyes just in time to see... nothing there.

He shrugged and turned around on his stomach, trying to fall asleep again.

_...CRSSHH!_

Trent bolted out of the bed. He saw a struggle between a shadow and the heap laying in Duncan's bunk (most likely Duncan).

He turned around and made out a vision of the other guys being attacked in the bunks, hearing Geoff's cries of "What the ...?!"

Raising his own arms in defense, Trent attempted to ward off anything coming his way.

He barely cried out before someone clapped their arm around his mouth and silently but jerkily dragged him away.

* * *

Pitch black darkness blocked Owen's vision. Muffled cries as he was yanked along the ground did nothing to help matters.

_What's going on? Is it breakfast already?_

Suddenly he was thrown down to the ground, the light reaching his eyes shortly before his vision was blocked again by the quickly moving ground.

Owen attempted to sit himself straight up with difficulty due to his large build and ignored the dirt in his mouth (He'd had worse). Trent lay on his side, almost getting a clear view of his surroundings if his sight hadn't been obstructed by his long and unruly black hair.

Duncan listened to the faint carnival music in the background. Tufts of his light brown hair stuck out at odd angles from under his do-rag.

He looked around and spotted Geoff's confused and dumbstruck expression. Geoff's mouth hung open at the dilapidated, revolving carousel and fair booths surrounding himself and the other boys.

Duncan reached for the Swiss Army knife in his back pocket and proceeded to slice the rope around his wrists off.

DJ whimpered. He grimaced at the macabre circus booths, showcasing a select choice of human and animal body parts. Blood splattered all along the dried brown grass and booth walls. One stand was advertising chances to throw steak knives at a human carcus for even more horrific prizes.

"What is this? A circus?" Owen asked to anyone who would answer.

"No way, man. Ain't no circus ever looked like this before," DJ's shaky voice replied.

"Get a hold of yourself, man," Duncan retorted as he cut through the ropes. He picked himself off of the ground and walked over to DJ, helping slice off his ropes as well.

As Trent threw himself on his back and sat up, he had to stare at his environment before making sense of it.

_Oh, real clever._

"Come on, Chris," he called out to nothing in particular, waiting for the host to appear somewhere. "We know you're out there."

"He's not coming out, dude," Duncan enlightened him as he cut DJ loose. The large boy proceeded to grab the grass tightly, refusing to be moved.

Duncan walked around and released the boys before inspecting the mannequin booth. Chipped porcelain puppets stared back absently, missing a few limbs and eyes.

As Duncan reached out to one with large black eyes in an old age Victorian little girl's skirt, DJ trembled behind him.

"Yo man, I don't think that's a good idea," warned the tall Jamaican teen.

"So what? It's not possessed or anything."

"Yeah, you say that now," Geoff said with his skater-boy accent. "Then it's probably gonna come at us with a meat cleaver or something!"

Duncan stared at them incredulously.

"Are you guys for real?" he inquired rhetorically, smacking Geoff upside the head.

Owen glanced around as his stomach rumbled.

_Man, I hope there's food around here somewhere, _the tubby boy thought with his stomach.

_...sniff, sniff... could it be? _The overpowering scent of grease and cholestorol tauntingly wafted through Owen's nostrils.

Hypnotized, the bulky blonde teen started walking automatically towards the source of the smell, relying on his nose alone.

* * *

"...I'm just saying, dude..."

"Look," Duncan snapped ferociously. "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just Chris playing some stupid prank on us again."

"Uh, guys?" Trent interrupted. "Where's Owen?"

"Uh..." The other campers searched around, finding no trace of their teammate.

"Great!" DJ cried. "They already got him! We're next!"

"No, we're not!" Duncan argued. "And nobody's out to get us! Just calm down."

"Well, maybe we should take Owen's cue and split up," Trent suggested.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Duncan agreed, rubbing his stubble-covered chin.

"Uh, are you kidding?" Geoff asked, exasperated. "We don't know what's out here!"

"NOTHING!" Duncan screamed.

"I'll go with ya, man," DJ offered. Geoff cracked a relaxed smirk.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah; I'm not going out there by myself."

"...Gee, thanks."

"Well, I'm runnin' it solo," Duncan said. "See ya."

Trent and Duncan split up in different directions to investigate. DJ nervously gripped Geoff's shoulders, the latter glancing around shakily.

"Uh, where do you wanna go?" DJ asked.

"...Where do you wanna go?"

"I asked first."

"Um, over there, I guess." Geoff gestured over to the tent with a beaten, worn-out banner overhead reading, _House of Mirrors._

"No way, man. That's _screaming _Freddy Krueger."

"Yeah, but are we just gonna stand around here in the open?"

"I will."

"...Okay."

There was a crash of thunder.

"AFTER YOU!!" DJ screamed as Geoff dashed into the funhouse.

* * *

"...Tch, meat cleaver. Idiots," Duncan mumbled to himself as he subconciously slipped into a tent, hiding from the cold rain.

Staring at the lightning in the distance, Duncan breathed silently.

Then he got the feeling he was being watched.

He slowly and cautiously turned around, grasping his knife for protection.

He was slightly startled at the contents of the tent; marionnettes hung from severed strings, their mouths dangling open. Dolls similar to the ones Duncan had spotted at the fair booth rested on shaky, antique tables. A French clown puppet lie closest to him, its faded eye make-up rendering Duncan slightly intimidated.

Millions of dolls, puppets, and otherwise inanimate figurines surrounded him, almost blocking his path.

_...A doll-makers shop? _Duncan shook his head, erasing the thought. _Nah, it's just Chris._

But Duncan couldn't ignore the feeling that maybe the producers didn't have the funding for this.

_Well, it got on the island somehow... This _is_ the island, right?_

_Of course it is,_ Duncan argued with himself. But more questions chased the explanations he had conjured up in his head until it blew his mind completely.

_Stop! _Duncan yelled at himself, silencing the ghostly debaters in his mind.

Arming himself with the pocketknife, he slowly felt his way along the dark path to the back of the tent.

"Chris?" he called out, still reaching out to the darkness, knocking more dolls out of his way. "C'mon, man, I know you're out there."

He was met with nothing but the sound of wood against wood as the puppets crashed together.

Duncan gulped and continued into the unknown.

* * *

Trent rushed into the larger of all the tents, leaning over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He shook the water out of his hair and wiped the rain off of his face.

Tired and unaware of his surroundings, he attempted to climb up the side of a set of bleachers and sit down.

As he sat silently, he looked out at the carnival grounds through the heavy downpour.

_Man, Gwen would be totally into this kind of thing,_ he thought to himself, smirking as he pictured the goth in his head.

He stared blankly at the empty bleacher seats behind him and turned his head. He observed the large, open ring which a stadium of stands surrounded. The primary color scheme of blue, yellow and red was typical of any three-ring circus.

He listened to his breath echo softly throughout the tent, barely audible through the rain and thunder.

Pretty soon Trent was shaking. Trembling at first, then full-out violently shivering.

Maybe he should have brought the other guys along...

* * *

**And that's the conclusion for Chapter 1. Please leave your opinions or critiques. Thanks!**

**Happy Early Halloween!**


	2. Opening Night

**Disclamer: I do not own TDI.**

**I know I said this would be done before Halloween, but I started writing this chapter and then it passed, so I'm really sorry for the delay.**

**This will probably only be a three or four chapter story; I'm seriously not going for a long project here.**

* * *

Owen's nose was overpowered with the scent of sugar and fat.

As he opened his eyes, he found himself in front of an antediluvian-looking concession stand, off-set by the fresh hot dogs rotating in the window. Popcorn crackled in the heart of the stand. Cotton candy and French fries lay on a shelf on top.

_But no one was running the stand._

It didn't matter; a rhino could be running the stand and Owen wouldn't care with his nose pressed up to the popcorn chamber.

"Oh, wow," his voice cracked. "I didn't think I'd see the day!"

"_Feeling hungry, sonny boy?"_ a raspy voice that sounded like nails scratching on a blackboard replied.

Owen looked up to find an elderly lady with dry, gray skin that clung to her bones. Her eyes were two glowing pools of light that lay sunken deep into her face over gaunt cheekbones. Her white, wispy hair was up in a messy bun under a hat that looked like it was folded from paper. The looked was topped off with an apron that was at least ten sizes too large.

She was, in essence, a zombie. And she hadn't been there a second ago.

Owen replied, oblivious to her appalling demeanor. "Uh, I really don't know. It's all so _much._.." He licked his lips in temptation.

The lady cracked a toothless smirk, more literally than not.

"_How about some cotton candy?"_

"Uh, okay!" Owen searched around nervously in his pink-striped pajama pockets for a wallet or at least a spare dollar when the server spoke up again.

"_Oh, money's no object, sonny boy. It's on the house."_

"Sweet! Really?"

"_Of course. A growing boy like you needs his nutrition."_

"Awesome!" Owen grabbed the stick of pink fluff from her outstretched hand, devouring it immediately.

"_And would you like some fries with that?"_

"Sure! What's anything without a couple of fries?"

The old lady smirked and handed him a red-striped carton filled with French fries.

Owen smiled in delight. He proceeded to take the fries out of her hands when she didn't let go.

"...Uh, it's okay. I got it."

She continued to smile at him eerily. Her hold on the carton was firm.

"Uh, ma'am? I got it."

Owen checked under the carton, immediately regretting it.

Her hand seemed to be fused to the bottom of the plastic. As in, _melted on._

Owen's head shot up to meet her eyes, only there was nothing to meet. She had become nothing but a skeleton with an apron and hat, and her jaw dropped wide open to let out a loud shriek.

"OH, CRAP!!" Owen dropped the cotton candy and began running as fast as his chubby little legs could take him.

He probably would have gotten farther if he hadn't tripped over a wire.

Owen felt a burlap-like material drape over his head and drag him away.

* * *

Geoff and DJ stared nervously at the hall of mirrors surrounding them. DJ did not relenquish his grip from Geoff's shoulders.

"Uh, maybe we should find another tent?" DJ's voice cracked.

"Um, yeah, probably."

As they turned around to exit, they ran into a wall of mirrors. Turning to their right, they stumbled into another one.

"Hey, Geoff, where do you think the girls are at?" DJ asked nervously.

There came a silent reply.

"...Geoff?"

DJ turned around and couldn't find the blonde-haired party dude.

"GEOFF?!"

His voice echoed against the glass panels.

Geoff searched around frantically for DJ, running into endless walls reflecting against each other.

"Dude? DUDE!"

There was a sigh behind him.

"Oh, man, you scared me, dude! I thought..."

Geoff was cut off by a black flash running across the mirrors.

"DJ?"

The flash ran behind him.

Spiraling around, Geoff stared at an empty mirror.

_I'm losing it, man!_

Geoff spun around one more time and took three steps back.

A woman in a black and white Victorian dress stood silently and motionlessly. Her black, frizzy hair ran loose around her head, completely covering her face except for the blood-red lipstick that dripped from her lips.

...Blood?

She snapped up and her hair moved to reveal deathly pale skin and totally white eyes, sans iris and pupil.

She suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream that sent Geoff a foot into the air.

"AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaAAAAAAAaaAAaAAAhhHHHHHhHHHHHHHHHHhHhhhhhhhh!!"

Geoff opened his mouth when he realized it wasn't him screaming. He listened to the cry of fear and the shreiking at the same time when the woman in front of him turned around, confused. DJ came blasting from behind a mirror and kept running, smashing into the next one, and the next one, _and the next one..._

Geoff stared at the DJ shaped cookie cutter image his friend left in the glass. He stared at the lady (still looking dazed), shrugged, and started running.

Hey, it was _some_ way out.

DJ and Geoff met outside, bent over and panting.

"Hey, man," DJ exhaled. "You saw her, too?"

"Yeah."

Geoff collapsed on the dried out grass, DJ following.

They didn't sense the lady tugging them along the ground to the largest tent.

* * *

A chill went up Duncan's spine as the puppets continued to clack against each other, army knife still poised and ready for attack.

A few feet behind him he heard something stir around.

Duncan whirled around at lightning speed and immediately stabbed his knife into the first doll he found.

Poor, sad, motionless little clown. Duncan's knife had lodged itself into the deformed chest cavity of an innocent, Cirque De Soleil looking mannequin.

As he gulped and proceeded to pull the knife out, Duncan heard more stirring in the dolls in front of him.

Panicking now, Duncan attempted maniacally to yank his knife out of the hard wood. Splinters flew out along with the pocketknife as it was abruptly removed.

Duncan swirled around and had his knife in the air again. The thudding and noises from the bushels of wood grew in volume.

A doll that shared an appearance to that of a young girl (sans an eye and leg) suddenly landed on Duncan's back, forcing a startled yelp out of him. He swung around, desperately trying to release her grip from his neck, swinging his knife around aimlessly.

More dolls joined her in an attempt to bring him down. His knife was knocked out of his hand as a mime swung down from the ceiling and wrapped around his shoulder.

Duncan strained to stand up under the weight of all the wood piling up on him. His knees slowly started to bend of their own accord.

"HELP!!!" Duncan cried uselessly as he disappeared under the pile of possessed puppets.

* * *

Trent sat in uncomfortable silence as the rain pounded harder on the top of the tent. Growing tired of the lack of noise, he jumped from off of the stands and caught out of the corner of his eye a poster taped onto a small portion of the tent that extended beyond the bleachers.

As he walked over to read it, he took notice of its more gruesome features. It portrayed a ringmaster of some sort sitting in the middle of the ring with his legs and other limbs being chewed off by carnivorous ants. Sections of his ribs and skull showed, with his vampire fangs placed right under his empty eye sockets, which on closer inspection just turned out to be two more mouths.

Trent shuddered violently at the image and was suddenly hit by an overwhelming case of nausea. As his stomach turned and he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up, he noticed the fancy lettering on top, describing the event and almost cut off by the tattered edges of the poster.

_Carnival of Catastrophe! Coming Doomsday!_

_Oh, crap,_ Trent screamed in his head as he bent over slightly. Dry heaves haunted him for about a minute before he could breathe and calm himself down.

He wished badly that Gwen were here to comfort him, and maybe (due to her personal likes and dislikes), even have put a positive spin on the situation.

With every ounce of willpower he had left, Trent dragged himself to the front of the stands and placed himself on the seat in the first row.

He waited, a sense of loathing growing inside of him for the deafening silence, allowing his thoughts to rampage and parade out of control. Trent longed for some kind of disturbance.

Even if it was the Escaped Psycho Killer With A Chainsaw and A Hook; anything!

There was a faraway sounding gag, as if someone was being strangled. Trent's head snapped up in response, looking around madly.

The lights all went off simultaneously, as if someone had pulled a giant switch. There was a flash of lightning, briefly illuminating the inside of the tent.

"Get off of me, man!" Trent heard a familiar voice complain.

"...Duncan?"

"Trent?"

"Duncan?"

"DJ?"

"Geoff?"

"Trent?"

"Owen?"

"DJ?!"

"GEOFF?"

"Oh, man!"

"Guys?"

"OWEN!" All the males rejoiced, finding themselves soon wrapped in a DJ bear hug.

"Man, I thought I'd never see you guys again!" Owen cried out. "There was this really freaky lunch lady..."

"Pssh, forget that! Try being attacked by dolls! It was like Seed of Chucky times twenty!"

"What about us, huh? You ever come face to face with Bloody Mary?"

"HEY!" Trent boomed, silencing the quarrel to test who had the scariest encounter. "You guys don't even know where we are! This is..."

He was cut off by a spotlight landing on the five of them. All of their expressions froze instantly.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" came an official sounding voice from nowhere.

"Ladies?" Duncan asked, finding no such thing in sight.

Two, three then four spotlights started spinning around the arena.

"Do you want laughs! Do you want fun?... Well then, YOU'VE COME TO THE WRONG PLACE!"

There was a bout of maniacal cackling.

"BUT! What you will get is guts, gore and great times! So now, presenting the Titan of Terrifying, the Damsel of Destruction, the epitome of your worst nightmares! The one, the only!... RINGMASTER RENEGADE! HAHAHAHA!"

All lights centered on the woman standing in the middle of the ring. She was dressed head-to-toe in circus garb, complete with top hat, coat with tails, megaphone and wooden cane. All attire was badly torn and ripped, as if stowed away too long. Her frizzy, uncontrollable hair exploded from under her hat.

There was a side note as the cackling died down.

_"Please refrain from any videotaping or flash photography."_

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger? OH, NO! Well, there you have it. I will probably have the third chapter coming up shortly.**

**Adios, amigos!**


	3. Let the FUNeral Begin

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

**I know it's been a while since I updated, but hey, better late than never.**

* * *

Owen hesitantly pulled out his Motorola and was about to shut it off when an upset Duncan yanked it out of his hands and threw it across the ring.

The tubby blond stayed silent.

Renegade continued her speech.

"Thank you, Medusa. Now, I know you're all anxious to see tonight's show."

"Why does she keep talking to us like it's the whole camp?" Geoff cried.

A spotlight lit up, illuminating the rest of the bleachers and revealing, of course, the eleven exiled campers, looking just as terrified.

"What the hell?" Duncan yelled, earning a few stares from the other members of the cast.

"But, what's a show without a little opening ceremony? Now, who wants to volunteer?"

"I'M OUTTA HERE!" DJ shrieked, dashing madly for the curtain, but held down by undead security.

"Now, boy, I know you're hungry, but you'll get snacks at intermission....Oh, wait, THERE IS NO INTERMISSION!"

She cackled loudly in indulgence.

"Ah, as I was saying, we need someone from the stands. Anyone? Anyone?" she taunted, poking around with her antique cane.

"...Ah, this one'll do..."

She tugged a struggling Harold up from the stands, the teens around him cringing away, not wanting to become her next victims.

"Oscar!"

A large hulk with a hockey mask stomped onto the stage with a massive wood chipper. Harold screamed.

"OH MY GAWD! OH MY GAWD! OH MY-"

"SHUT UP!" Renegade snarled, her expression vicious.

**_DJ: And that's when I thought...._**

***kssssssssssh***

**_DJ: This is how I'm gonna die!_**

***kssssssssssh***

**_Trent: Oh man, if there's one thing I hate more than anything, it's clowns. And I know it's ironic saying that I'm not really that comfortable with the French since I live in Quebec, but the combination resulting in a French clown is kinda the second part of why I hate mimes. Basically, anything with too much make up. Like Heather._**

***kssssssssssh***

Renegade's face returned to it's former, pleasantly anticipating state.

"Well, boy, it's you're lucky day. You're going to be meeting him in a second!"

She clapped a hand over his mouth as she prepared to throw him into the now fully-powered device.

All the audience had forgotten about escaping; they were frozen to their seats in fear.

"NOOOOOOO!!!"

Harold was shoved in headfirst, massive amounts of blood gushing out the large pipe, spewing all over Oscar who seemed to be relishing the red liquid spilling on his shirt.

There were huge fits of screaming and crying coming from the crowd, now thrown into a frenzy of attempted escapes, once again bound to their seats by the zombie gaurds.

Geoff held his breath, and unable to contain it anymore, puked right onto the floor near Duncan's feet.

"Eeww, dude!" Duncan snapped.

DJ was full-out sobbing now.

"What's that?" Renegade put her hand to her ear. "You want more?"

There were pleading cries from the bleachers, loudest on the guy's side.

"Well, okay! You asked for it!"

* * *

"A volunteer!" Renegade called.

Sadie's head split with a clean crunch as the hammer pounded down on her skull, draped under the large leather sheet.

The crowd cringed in disgust.

"Anyone? Anyone at all?"

Ezekiel's short life quickly ended as he was pulled apart on the stretching table, his entrails dragging behind.

"Another volunteer!"

Eva's rib cage was puntured by the four-foot spikes that dropped from the ceiling into the cage she was trapped in.

"I'M HERE ALL NIGHT, PEOPLE!"

Justin's perfect hair was matted with blood as his head rolled around on the circus floor, cut clean off from the rest of his body courtesy of the guillotine he had been positioned in.

Renegade's mad laughter reverberated off the walls of the tent.

She turned to look at Owen. The terrified teen was shaking voilently under her gaze.

"What about you, kid? You ever wanted to be in show business?"

"NO!" Owen pleaded, forgetting why he had signed up for TDI in the first place.

He was going to die! What would his brothers say? Would there be one less place at his family's table form now on?

Renegade gripped his pajama collar firmly and began tugging him on stage.

"NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

A second later he was tied to a chair, with an active pipe bomb ticking away.

"FIVE!"

".._.!_"

"FOUR!"

"_PLEASE!"_

"THREE!"

"_MOMMYYYYYYY!"_

"TWO!"

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"ONE!"

The lights blew out and the five boys slipped into unconciousness.

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger. Yeah, cuz I like being mean like that.**

**I'm being mean because I just saw the American version of the finals and I can't believe Owen frickin' won AGAIN. He already got Canada, you dickwads, let Gwen have a chance. I _wish_ I could blow him up with that pipebomb.**

**Anyway, the assitant's name was Oscar because it sounds like _oscuro_, which is the Spanish word for dark. ****Oh, and the reason I put in the fact that Owen has brothers is because in Total Dramax4 Island, Chris mentioned that he had two older brothers. So there you go.**


	4. A Shocking Wake Up Call

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI/A.**

**Okay, here finally comes the (probably not so dramatic) conclusion to one of my stories.**

**Come to think of it, I think this is the only story I've ever finished. Like, ever. Probably why I usually only write oneshots.**

* * *

DJ woke up in a coldsweat.

Shocked and dazed, he looked around and realized that it was morning in the boys cabin.

Still and peaceful, like nothing happened.

_...It was a dream?_

DJ turned his head and flinched as he found a shocked Trent sitting upright in his bed across the room.

They looked at each other nervously, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Alright, campers!" Chris' cheery voice blasted from the speakers. "Time for breaky!"

* * *

The girls appeared fine as they routinely cringed from Chef's food dropping onto their tray before heading for their table.

Meanwhile, the boys sat silently in quiet terror; even Owen wasn't joyfully stuffing his face like usual.

"What's the matter, boys?" Heather taunted from the other table. "Have a bad dream?"

There were mixed responses of yes and no.

"Well, I wouldn't be _clowning_ around if I were you, today."

They all flinched at the mention of clowns.

"Are you okay?" Lindsay called. "You've all got, like, _rings _under your eyes."

"...Don't say ring," Duncan protested meekly.

"Hey, dudes. Dudettes," Chris greeted them as he walked towards the girls' table.

"So, I'm guessing the blue side of camp didn't get much beauty sleep last night?" Chris inquired, flashing his million-dollar smile.

Geoff stared around nervously. Why did everyone seem so aware that they were tired?

"What's the matter? Had a little encounter with a certain... renegade?" Gwen asked, too cheerily.

Trent's head snapped up. "What?!"

Gwen spit out her food to laugh for a second, and the other girls soon did the same.

Chris continued smiling.

"What the hell's so funny?" Duncan snapped groggily.

Chris chuckled. "Dude, everyone knows about your little 'nightmare.' We got it on tape!"

"...What?"

Gwen pulled out a black, frizzy wig and plopped it on her head, revealing the identity of last night's visitor.

DJ sqeaked and tossed himself into Owen's arms.

All the guys gasped and groaned in defeat.

"But, how did you...?"

"Leftover props, man," Chris replied, still smiling. "Halloween Horror Nights can be very generous."

"...But that's all the way down in Orlando! How'd it get up to Northern Ontario?" Geoff demanded.

"A _whole_ lot of shipping and handling. But it was SO worth it!" Chris laughed, holding up a small video camera and switching on the miniscreen to reveal last night's terror fest.

"And the girls and other losers kindly offered to stand in! Priceless!"

Chris walked out of the main lodge, his distant laugher mixing in with the girls'.

Duncan dropped his head onto his 'Hawaiian Puree Casserole.'

_It's gonna be a long day..._

* * *

**A/N: Not so shocking, I know. But it was all I could think of.**


End file.
